Or You Are OutOut
by rumbleroar846
Summary: Written for the btr kink meme. Essentially, Wayne-Wayne tells James that if he doesn't ride him, he'll get Griffin to fire him from the band. I do not own Big Time Rush.  Be warned of slash material, non-con, language, etc.


Warnings: oh...yanno. sex, language, abuse.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush or endorse abuse/assault.  
Author's Note: Written for the btr kink meme. Essentially, Wayne-Wayne tells James that if he doesn't ride his dick, he'll get Griffin to fire him from the band. The entire prompt is under the cut. It's not my usual style, and I always forget that bottom!James isn't my forte, but according to **hellfirehalo188** it's not bad! Yay! I love her.

_Okay, I am definitely a little embarrassed about this one but I want Gustavo (or Griffin) to tell James that if the teen doesn't have sex with him, he will fire(or whatever) Big Time Rush and send them all home on the first plane to Minnesota. Since being famous means so much to James, he reluctantly agrees. Gustavo (or Griffin) then proceeds to make James ride his dick, either in his office chair or the studio with lots of dirty talk from the older man. (It could even be Wayne Wayne/James where Wayne Wayne tells James that if he doesn't ride him, it'll be James he kicks out of the band, or he won't kick Logan out, or whatever.)_

I just really want someone blackmailing James into riding their dick, and I want it hard, dirty, and I don't want James to enjoy it.

Bonus points if he's crying by the end of it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, seriously? If I see him at our pool one more time I'm gonna scream."

"I know! Not just that, but he's stealing away my Jennifers! It's not fair!"

"Logan, Carlos, chill. He's not gonna be here much longer anyways. All we gotta do is come up with an amazing plan to get rid of him, and Gustavo will help."

He got the same answer from three different directions. "Yeah right."

Kendall rolled his eyes. "Whatever. He doesn't seem all that Bad-Bad ta me, anyway. I really don't see the big deal." he faced his friends. "I mean, all he's got is a stupid jacket, a sideways hat, and three guys in white track suits."

"He is kinda creepy though, Kendall." _Kinda like those guys back in Minnesota…_

"Oh, James, you think a _lot_ of people are creepy." he glanced over. "Speak of the devil."

Wayne-Wayne and his crew came strolling around the pool until they were facing the guys. "Yo-yo, whaddup-whaddup Big Time Losers?"

"We aren't Big Time Losers!" James shrieked.

Kendall waved him down. "Just go away, Wayne-Wayne. We're enjoying our day off without you."

"_Ooh_, cold there, Eyebrows. Jus' passin' by, anyhow."

"Then why'd you all stop in front of us?"

"I don't think that's any-a-yer business, Eyebrows! You guys'll hafta catch me at the studio tomorrow. Wayne-Wayne Out." and though the shades hid his lingering eyes, James still couldn't shake the feeling that he was being examined all over again.

***

"Okay…" Gustavo started, "that was THE WORST DANCE REHEARSAL I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!"

"We know, Gustavo. We know."

"STOP TALKING! Now, James: you need to stop running into Wayne-Wayne. It messes you up, and then Logan and Carlos mess up. And it's NOT WORKING!"

This was ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as seventh-grade gym class, when those guys told the teacher that it was his _own_ fault that his uniform was torn. "It's not **me**, Gustavo! He's the one who keeps messing up all the moves! I know this song!"

"Quiet, dog! Let's just try it again!"

James shot a death-glare over at the boy, who only smirked back in return.

***

"Man, I can't believe Wayne-Wayne dances so _badly_."

"Seriously, even _I'm_ not that bad."

"You're not bad, Logie."

"Aww, how sweet, Kendall."

"Shut _up_, James." he joked.

"I know, sorry, it's just…I don't think he was doing it on accident."

"So on purpose?"

He chanced a look in his direction. "Yes, Carlos."

"Wait, James," Logan began, "why would Wayne-Wayne hit into you on purpose?"

He was almost answering two questions, for he wasn't sure why those guys in Minnesota had wanted to kiss him like that, either. "I don't know."

"Then why'd you say he did?"

"I said he _might_ have. I dunno, it was just weird. It wasn't even like he hit into me normal. His hand hit my ass like every time and….uh." If he didn't stop talking he was going to give himself away. He had never burdened his friends with the secret, why start now? But it was just all too déjà vu…they had all kissed him so roughly…

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"James, what?"

"Nothing.".

"Jus spit it out!"

"I thought he smelled me, okay?"

The other three boys looked at each other, then at him. "_Smelled_ you?"

"Yup."

Kendall thought about it. "I dunno, James…he's weird, but maybe not _that_ weird."

"It is really weird, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He felt relieved. "Whoo, that's good. I was afraid you guys were gonna agree with me. That would have been SO awkward."

"Totally." they all replied, and James refocused on his dinosaur-battle with Carlos.

***

James checked the text and groaned. "No way…" he got out of his chair, where he had been perfectly happy to tan two minutes ago, and found the three guys in the pool. Carlos was chatting it up with Stephenie, great, and Kendall and Logan were…playing some sort of keep-away game with a Nerf ball. Keep-away sure is hands-on.

"Hey, did you guys get a text from Gustavo?"

They shook their heads. "No….?"

He flipped his phone open and read aloud: "James get to the studio -Gustavo. What the hell does that mean?"

"Maybe you left something there?"

"Or he's gonna try ta convince you ta look less like Matthew McConahey?"

"Or he needs background vocals." was Logan's logical answer.

"But I don't wanna work today! I'm getting tantastic!" he held up his arms and wriggled his fingers to signal The Face.

"Yeah, well, this is yer dream, buddy."

James pursed his lips. Kendall and his convincingness. "True. Probly nothing too bad. Alright, see ya guys later I guess."

"See ya!" "Bye!" "Later!"

***

James shook his head as he entered Rocque Records. He was totally happy to lay down some vocals for Gustavo; he just hadn't expected to be showering, changing, and hopping into the limo on his day off from work. He reached Gustavo's office and knocked on the door. The voice that answered was muffled; apparently everything in music studios were sound proof.

"Come in."

James walked in without thinking about it and looked up to find no Gustavo at his desk. He searched to his right, but the big man wasn't over there. The door clicked into place and locked.

"There you are."

James spun to his left. "Wayne-Wayne? What're you doing here? Where's Gustavo?"

"He's not here."

"Um, yeah, he is." he gave him that 'You're an idiot' face. "I got a text from him saying to get here right away."

"What makes ya think Gustavo sent it?"

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe because it came from his number and has his signature at the bottom?"

"Oh…right. Yeah," his arm slipped from his pocket (for they were large pockets) and brandished the Blackberry. "You mean, it came from _this_ number?"

James stared at him. "Why… do you have Gustavo's phone?"

"I took it."

"Oh….kay? Why'd you text me?"

"I figured this'd be the best place to be."

"For _what_?"

"For us." he trailed his fingers over the skin of James' arm that wasn't hidden by the t-shirt.

He jerked away. "Whoa, don't touch me."

He yanked the arm and got in his face. "I'll touch ya all I want, princess. Now start strippin'."

James took back his arm, for this was becoming all-too familiar. "WHAT? What the fuck, man? I-I'm not _gay_, especially not for _you_!"

Wayne-Wayne only cackled. "OH! Oh, man, I see. You're not gay. You. Well, listen here, fruitcake: me neither. This," he motioned to their atmosphere, "doesn't leave this room. And regardless of whatever you think you may or may not be, you're gettin naked! Right now."

_Naked?_ That was way more than before. And…and this….God, it was even grosser now that he was old enough to understand more of it. He put on his most threatening stance, still having a few inches advantage over the other. "W-what," _Shit, but don't stutter, idiot!_ "makes you think that that would **ever** happen?"

"Because…" he licked his lips, moving towards the boy, "I'm nineteen, and I know my rights. I also know that'ch'you really want this big career you got going fer yerself. And, uh…it honestly wouldn't bother me if you lost _everything_." he trailed his fingers along James' sides, the latter stock-still against the wall for support.

This had to be a nightmare. "You'd….you're saying you'd get me _fired_? Please, Wayne-Wayne, please, I've wanted to be famous my whole life!"

He grinned, tilting his head. "That's why you gotta do this, baby. Jus' think of it as part'a the job." he leaned forward, repeating the command in James' ear "Now strip."

"Please, I'll do something else-"

"NO! No, I want _this_." he said, bringing his palm across the thin shirt and over James' nipple. He was looking him in the eyes. "Strip.".

Stepping back, Wayne-Wayne watched the younger teen shift on his feet, still nervously deciphering what was real and what may have somehow erupted from his past. Wayne-Wayne clapped his hands, startling the boy into tugging off his shirt. The poser leaned against the desk and cupped his erection through his jeans at the sight of James' washboard-abs.

The singer's fingers shook violently as he undid the pants and let them fall. He stood in front of Wayne-Wayne, completely embarrassed, reddening at the other's smug expression.

"What'd'ya waitin for, superstar? Pull 'em down."

His lip quivered. He had just a little pride left, and this guy was making him lose that, too. But…if he did it, he'd be walking to the car in two minutes, on his way to being famous again. He hooked his hands under the waistband and slipped them down, limp cock exposed to the muddy eyes across the room.

"Oh, now aren't you a pretty bitch? Isn't this fun, huh? Ain't Hollywood the best damn place for whores like you?"

"C-can…can I leave now?" he tried to resist the urge to cover himself.

"Leave? You wanna leave? Oh, fuck, that's rich. No-no-no, don't look down, look at me. Watch this." he unfastened the belt on his pants slowly, sneering at the horror-stricken countenance that was James' face. "I'm gonna have some fun with you, Jimmy." the pants and boxers dropped, displaying Wayne-Wayne's dripping member. "Get over here."

The brunette gaped. This hadn't been part of the deal, so he backed away.

"Uh-uh-uh, Jimmy boy, that'd be an awful Big Time Mistake there."

He swallowed hard, trudging toward the adult. "W-What?"

"Over the desk."

"Ex-excuse me?"

"OVER THE DESK!" he pushed him face-down onto the desk, kicking open his legs. "Ya, see, here, Jimmy. Pretty boys like you are made fer a purpose. An' when ya come to L.A. to get all famous an' shit, sometimes ya gotta lay down an' _take it_." Two fingers penetrated the exposed hole.

James yelped. He began pushing his upper body off of Gustavo's desk, only to be thwarted by a hand between his shoulder blades and a third finger.

"Oh, yeah. God keep screamin like that. It hurts, huh? It hurts real bad? Tell me, Jimmy. Be a good boy and tell Wayne-Wayne what yer thinkin'.

"I-It…" he whimpered. "It hurts. S-stop, please. Please stop touching me."

He chuckled. "It hurts? It hurts real bad? Oh my God, look at you. You're all tan and spread out. Aah, fuck. Breathe harder like that, baby, come on. Maybe if you listen to instructions better I'll let up on ya."

James was willing to try anything that promised the possibility of freedom. He picked up his panting, as Wayne-Wayne had ordered. There were even little whines decorating the gasps, but those were involuntary and due to the tears he was struggling to withhold.

"Good, good. Aiight, then. Up." James could have smiled then, he was so relieved it was over. He turned around, going for his clothes, but Wayne-Wayne held him back. "Now," he rasped, licking a clear line from the boy's pecks to his jaw line. "You're gonna get real dirty, puddin-pop. You're gonna be a real bad little boy, aiight? You better do like I say, fucker. Come on." he threw himself into Gustavo's chair, cock still erect as ever. He leaned back, allowing all ego and pre-cum to shine in the office lighting. James just quivered, anxiety consuming him as he watched the older teen do all of this.

"You wanna role-play, Jimmy? Is that it? You want me ta be Gustavo, telling ya what to do like his little bitch? You _are_ a little bitch, Jamie. And little bitches, and bad little boys, you know where they belong?"

"N-n-no…"

He gestured for him to follow over. "Right here. And don't you dare fuckin hesitate anymore! I'm fuckin starving over here! Can ya guess what'chyer supposed ta do?"

He shook his head, eyes wide, desperately trying to avoid looking anywhere aside from the guy's pupils.

He bore his teeth long enough to spit out "Yer sittin on my dick."

James gagged, and the one in the chair cackled. "Remember what I said!" he sing-songed, "You hesitate, I tell Griffin!". That had the boy scrambling over. He straddled Wayne-Wayne's legs, faltering one last time in deciding whether staining this small moment of his life was worth the years of celebrity-status to come.

He never had the chance to make up his mind. Wayne-Wayne seized his hips and yanked him _down_, emitting a shriek from the young pop star.

_"Oh yeahhh…."_groaned the wanna-be rapper. _"Sing fer me, baby. That's what I wanted. Mmm….fuck, you still feel so tight. Guess I didn't really stretch ya much at all, huh?"_

"Aaahh…" he couldn't hide the tear that streamed down his cheek. He was in agony. The pressure inside of him as _huge_. While his own dick was easily larger than Wayne-Wayne's, the fact that something of this volume was **inside** of him was beyond his comprehension. It should not be in there, his inner walls were protesting without interruption. _"Noo…"_

"Whatever." he shifted around a bit, loving the grimaces that _he_ was causing. The boy on his lap was quaking in torture, but damn was he beautiful. His eyes were clamped shut and sweat as beading everywhere. His muscles were the most defined Wayne-Wayne had ever seen this close, and shame was rolling off of him in waves. Not to mention, his hot ass felt so perfect around his dick.

"Start movin', baby. Give daddy a good time." he raked his fingers up and down James' thighs, then admiring how the muscles in his back clenched and unclenched in time with his inner walls. "Move a little for papa, come on."

James worked a little, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to be doing, or if there were any way to make the fire in his ass to stop searing him. Wayne-Wayne grabbed his hips and commenced guiding him, not bothering to start out slow or savor any moments. He was thrusting up himself, and groaning right into James' face. The boy just wanted it all to end. He was in pain, he was embarrassed, he just wanted to go home.

_"Fuck yeah, fuck, come on."_ Wayne-Wayne grunted. _"Keep goin fah daddy, come on."_

James could only nod. His lip was bleeding now, because if he let go he'd start crying, and he didn't want Wayne-Wayne to have even more satisfaction.

_"You still wanna be" *grunt*" "famous? Huh" *grunt* "big boy?" *grunt* "Want I should tell Griff-Griff and Gustavo" *grunt* "you got talent after all? Aagh. **Fuck.**"_ he buried his nails into James' hips, and sunk his teeth into his shoulder.

The brunette felt the hot liquid coat his insides and sting the rips that he was now sure were there. He let out a small sob at the contact, shaking in his revulsion. This perverted individual had just marked his territory on him. Had just-

"Aah, oh yeah. Get the fuck off of me." he and James extracted the now-limp dick and had James rolling on the floor. He curled into a ball, and let go. The dams behind his eyelids shattered into oblivion and his throat was transformed into nothing but a tunnel for his despair to fly out of. He cried and he screamed. James Diamond was broken. He barely registered the sound of Wayne-Wayne's zipper, or his snarky comment:

"I guess I'll see ya at work, buddy." the door clicked closed behind him, and the pop star was left in his mess on the floor. The retching only shook him harder when he realized that his violator's cum was seeping down his thighs. He fisted his hair and slammed his fists against the wall, kicking nothing and wishing it were everything. Wishing that the burning in his hole would cease so that he could forget, just forget about everything, anything. His breathing was returning to normal, only because it hurt too much to continue moving. Nothing this bad had ever happened to him. He'd gladly get shoved into the side of the cafeteria again, if it meant never having to endure this. It was only two boys, and they just wanted to kiss him. It didn't matter now. His lips had been bruised and his shirt had been torn, but he wasn't physically-.

The air left his lungs. _Scarred. I'm….I'm scarred now. Because scars never go away…._ he cried harder, he knew it was true. Then it occurred to him, slowly now, for his mind was too overrun with grief to restrain any of his subconscious from invading. _If…if I ever was with…a guy, he'd feel it. He'd…know._ he had never wanted to like guys. He blamed **them**. For four years, they had altered every one of his days. Every fuck-tarded day of his life was more complicated now, and they were the catalyst that had brought him here. Made him want to be famous. Maybe him need to be the best, and to shine over anyone else that might stand in his way for claiming the one person he now thought about all the time.

As if on cue, the door reopened, and he walked in, dropping to his knees next to his friend. "James…"

He hugged himself tighter, shutting his eyes and forcing himself to not believe that he was going to see him like this. It wasn't happening. He'd wake up tomorrow and he'd be perfect and he'd try again to get his attention. To make him guess at what he was feeling.

But there was no guessing at what James was feeling right now, and this new occupant could only stew in anger at how his friend had been treated. His…well, he was just his friend for now. His broken friend.

James' eyes were still clenched tight, but the guy laid down next to him. Without words, he pulled him close, and kissed James' forehead. It was all Carlos could do not to completely break down with this person who meant so much to him. He held him like that, and they both tried to forget. 


End file.
